


Things Unsaid Are Not Things Ignored

by MerHums



Series: The Grand Scheme of Things [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Established Relationship, M/M, Omega Verse, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:09:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4897615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerHums/pseuds/MerHums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg is feeling used and Mycroft is feeling tired. There's a reason for both of these things, but that won't stop them fighting about it.</p><p>And Anthea always knows just what to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Unsaid Are Not Things Ignored

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the prequel to "Well, That Was Unexpected" found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4884325). Happy reading!

Greg bent down, picking up the paper that had fluttered off Mycroft's desk when he'd entered the study. "Christ," he muttered, making a mental note to ask Mycroft just when Sherlock and John had decided to bond.

He flopped down on the short couch, and kicked his feet up, waiting for Mycroft to come meet him. He yawned and glanced at the clock. Wouldn’t be too much of a problem if he slept….just for a bit.

It had been a long day. Mycroft was feeling more tired than usual. It was odd, just how tired he’d been of late. He opened the door to the house. “Gregory?”

Greg shook himself out of his doze. "In the study!" he called back.

Setting his umbrella aside, Mycroft climbed the stairs, leaning a bit on the rail. He opened the study door and smiled at Greg, still looking deliciously sleep-rumpled. “Good evening.”

"Hey love," Greg yawned. "How was work?"

“Long. You?” He entered the room and sat on the sofa at the alpha’s feet.

“Got out kinda early actually,” Greg said, moving his feet off and switching positions so he could lay his head on Mycroft’s lap.

Mycroft ran his fingers through Greg’s short hair. “You didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Nah,” Greg said with a shrug. “Just one of those nights.” In truth, he’d been up and worrying about how to broach the subject of their relationship to Mycroft. They’d started out with Greg servicing Mycroft’s infrequent heats, and had somehow blossomed into something more. But it was still unsaid between them just what they planned to do in the future. Greg had told Mycroft he loved him months ago, and the omega had accepted it but hadn’t replied in kind. Greg had hidden his disappointment, and accepted Mycroft’s decision. But the ring locked in his desk at work for the past few months, since that day, was weighing heavily on him, and Greg was unsure of what to do, how to ask Mycroft.

“You’re thinking,” said Mycroft, raising an eyebrow. “Best to just get it out.”

“I’m not sure how,” Greg replied.

“Should I get some tea?”

“No, it’s fine,” Greg said. He sat up with a sigh. “Look. Mycroft. What are we?”

Mycroft frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve got a key to your house. I help you with your heats, but we also have sex out of heats. I love you,” Greg said, rubbing at his face. “But we don’t have a name for each other. Last time I checked, even Sherlock doesn’t know we’re together.”

“No one does, Gregory.” Mycroft sighed and got to his feet. He noticed the invitation on the desk moved from where he’d left it. “Is this about Sherlock and John? You know this has to be a ruse, right?”

“No, it’s not about Sherlock and John. It’s about us,” Greg said.

Mycroft knew exactly what he meant, but he didn’t know how to respond. He never knew how to respond. Greg made him feel things no one else ever had, saw the man beneath the ice. “We simply are,” he said instead.

"Mycroft," Greg said slowly. "But I don't want to just be. I mean, I want to be able to bring you home to meet my dad, say you're mine. And I don't know if you want that. That's the problem here. I don't know. You're unreadable."

“We can discuss it later. I need to pack for the weekend.” He knew he was running away from the conversation, had been for months if not years.

"I don't want to discuss it later," Greg snapped. "I want you to stop avoiding this and tell me what you want from me!" He could have kicked himself for raising his voice, but everytime he tried to talk to Mycroft, the omega would avoid the conversation.

“There’s no need to shout.” Mycroft couldn’t look at him, couldn’t stand the way his heart ached when Greg was angry, of knowing he’d put that hurt on his face. “You take care of my heats, Gregory.”

"Is that it?" Greg asked, hurt at Mycroft's dismissal. "I'm just a fucking cock to you?"

"What do you want me to say?"

“I dunno,” Greg said sarcastically, rubbing his temples. “Maybe no? Maybe I’m not just something you keep around to take care of your heats? Maybe that you actually like my company, that you’re not just humouring me when you ask me to dinner, or to stay the night?”

"I do enjoy your company," said Mycroft walking to his room to pack and knowing Greg would follow.

“Then why is it so hard for you to say that?” Greg asked, chasing after him. “What is it that makes this so hard for you? What am I doing wrong?”

"Nothing, Gregory. You know my work. You know what I can't do. But you keep asking this of me when I can't!" He yanked out a suitcase.

“What am I asking you for that you can’t do?” Greg asked, voice loud with disbelief. “Do you want me to pretend forever that I’m single and alone? That I don’t have someone I love? Tell me what it is and I’ll work with you on it!”

"You should know by now!" Mycroft snapped.

“You can’t even look at me!” Greg shouted back. “You keep yourself all locked up, keep everything to yourself. We can’t all have brilliant political minds!”

"It's for your safety!" Mycroft looked at him and immediately regretted it, seeing the pain in his eyes. "I'm keeping you safe." It was what he always told himself. What he had to believe.

“Safe from what, Mycroft?” Greg asked, frustrated and exhausted of this fight. “Because the only thing that’s hurting me right now is you. So if that’s it, if all I am to you is a walking cock, then tell me that, and I’ll leave,” he spat, the words tasting like tar on his tongue.

"If that's what you must do then do it." Mycroft felt his heart cracking but was determined to hold it together.

“You...you don’t want me here, do you?” Greg asked, taking a step back. “I don’t mean anything to you?”

Mycroft wanted to say so much. Instead all that came out was "Gregory...."

“What?” Greg asked bitterly. “Anything else you need to say, or should I grab my coat and go?”

Mycroft only shook his head. Greg deserved so much better than this.

“Right. Fine then.” Greg bit back a nastier reply. “I’ll see myself out. Don’t bother calling when your heat comes around. I’m sure you can find someone else to be your puppet.”

Mycroft heard him stomp down the stairs and winced as the door slammed. Was that it then? He sank to a seat and put his head in his hands only to hear his mobile alert. He took a few deep breaths and got up to pack again, locking his emotions down.

Anthea stepped in a few moment’s later, folder under her arm. “Sir?” she asked. “Is there something you wish done about the Inspector?”

"No. Continue the usual surveillance for now." Greg deserved a better life but Mycroft still wanted him to be safe. And part of him hoped he'd come back.

“Then is there anything I can do for you?” she asked quietly, handing him the file. “Sir.”

"Perhaps a stiff drink," he said, taking the folder. "I always knew I'd be the one to ruin things." He opened the folder and his heart stopped. "Did you read this?"

“No, sir. Not unless you want me to have read it,” Anthea said, face blank as she looked at him.

Mycroft scrubbed his face. "I need a scan. Tonight."

“Yes, sir. Already arranged.” Anthea hesitated, then set her hand on his shoulder. “I’m not sure what was said. But I am sure that it is fixable.”

Mycroft nodded. "Make sure he knows where I am?"

“If he requests the information, I will be sure to tell him,” Anthea said. “The details of your appointment are in the back of the file. I will ensure the car is ready.” She nodded and left.

**

Greg was still half drunk the next morning. He'd almost called Mycroft twice but had stopped himself. They needed to quit doing this. Mycroft needed to stop shutting him out. He maybe should walk away. But he still had the ring and he knew that Mycroft cared, even if he was so bloody repressed.

Anthea knocked on the door, and then finding it unlocked when she tried the handle, walked in. Not the best plan to walk in on what she could scent as an upset, and slightly inebriated alpha, but the Inspector knew her at least. “Inspector Lestrade,” she said, crossing her arms as she looked at him, slumped on the couch in yesterday’s clothes. “I believe you’ve made an error, and while it seems drinking is your plan of action, I’d have to argue its effectiveness.”

Greg rolled his eyes. “ _I_ made the error? I’m more than just a pretty cock you know. Even if that’s all he thinks.”

“You were the one to walk out,” Anthea replied, and walked into the kitchen, turning on the coffee pot and getting a glass of cold water. “And if you believe he thinks so, then why did you stay so long? Why did you permit yourself to fall in love?” She pushed the glass of water into his hand, and pulled open the drawer of the table near his armchair, shaking two pills out of the nearest bottle and handing them over. “Drink.”

Greg obeyed. “Does anyone really choose to fall in love?” he asked. “Did Mycroft send you here?”

“No. He’s in the country at Sherlock and John’s engagement party,” Anthea replied. “If he knew I was here, he’d threaten to fire me. And as far as love, I don’t know.”

Greg raised an eyebrow, then shook his head, getting up to pour himself a cup of coffee. “I know he cares. I know he can’t say it. But just once Anthea….” He leaned against the door frame. “It’s been two years.”

“Just once might be once too much in our line of work,” Anthea replied. “And it has been two years. So are you going to throw that all away because you feel like you’re being used, even though you know that is not true?”

Greg shook his head. “I suppose I should give him the weekend. I don’t even know where he’s at. And I doubt he’d answer my call.”

“I told you, he’s in the country. And frankly, I think you shouldn’t give him the weekend. I think you should go,” Anthea replied. “There just so happens to be a car arranged to leave from outside your house at four this afternoon. More than enough time to sober up, shower and leave.”

Greg nodded. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Okay.”

_**_

_In the end, it took only a quick conversation in the Holmes Estate gardens and a stammered admittance by Mycroft to iron out that yes, they did love each other, that yes, Mycroft would marry Greg._

_And as a side note, the scan also proved that yes, the bloodwork was right, and yes, Mycroft was carrying Greg’s child. But really, the only one who wasn’t terribly surprised by any of this was Anthea. As was the normal in the grand scheme of things._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find us on AO3 at [Janto321 ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/)and [HumsHappily](http://archiveofourown.org/users/humshappily) or on tumblr at [merindab ](http://merindab.tumblr.com)(janto321) and [HumsHappily](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com)!


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